


at journey’s end follow freedom’s lantern

by GlitterDwarf



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallout (Video Games) Setting, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Fallout 4 AU, Hand Jobs, Harm to Children, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24325228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterDwarf/pseuds/GlitterDwarf
Summary: Richie stumbles onto a secret organization fighting to ensure freedom for synthetic humanoids. He expects danger, adventure, and access to good healthcare. He doesn't expect to fall in love.Fallout 4 AU with the Losers as members of The Railroad. Check the tags, as some of the content is typical of the universe.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Don Hagarty/Adrian Mellon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	at journey’s end follow freedom’s lantern

**Author's Note:**

> It's my birthday so I'll post something self-indulgent if I want to ayyyyy

When the lights flooded on, Richie stumbled in shock, but never let his weapon sink. He wasn’t surprised to see two pointing right back at him, but he  _ was _ surprised to not be immediately shot down.  _ Fuck, _ he thought to himself; he left himself wide fucking open and he was going to pay for it.

“Stop right there,” an icy voice intoned. Richie could see it was coming from a redheaded woman. She was the only person out of three that wasn’t pointing a gun at his chest, but she probably didn’t fucking need to; the authority was evident in her voice. “You went through a lot of trouble to arrange this meeting. Before we go any further, answer my questions. Who the hell are you?”

“Uh,” Richie said, very intelligently. He briefly thought about all the people he’s turned down as traveling companions and wished suddenly that he had any backup at all. “Why don’t...why don’t you tell me who  _ you _ are first?”

The short, dark-haired man to her left scoffed, but the woman shot him a placating glance before returning her attention to Richie.

“Sure. In a world full of suspicion, treachery, and hunters, we’re the synths’ only friends. We’re the Railroad. So answer my questions.”

“Huh,” Richie muttered. “Kind of a weird answer but okay. Eh...a meeting? I was just exploring.”

Bev looked at Richie, incredulity in her eyes. “And you just happened to guess the password to the secret door? Right.”

“In my defense, you guys set up a whole fucking map to get here. I was just bored and wandering around the Freedom Trail so I decided to follow the red lines over here. And I’m sorry to say but...it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the door password. You kind of gave me all the hints I needed. Honestly I...I just stumbled in here.”

“You really don’t know, do you?” Her words were slow then, more confused than anything. It would have been nice if the two people backing her up could get with the program, as it seemed she had, but they hadn’t flinched at all. “I’m Bev, and I’m the leader of the Railroad. And you...”

“I’m...I’m Richie.”

“Do you even know what a synth is?” she asked, almost pitying, or maybe just annoyed; he  _ was _ wasting her time, after all. 

“Honestly...not really.”

“He could be lying,” the dark-skinned woman on Bev’s right said. She hadn’t wavered at all, looking comfortable and strong as though the heavy fucking machinery she was holding up weighed nothing at all. It looked like a custom rifle job, lots of complicated-looking add-ons tacked to it, and Richie had no doubt that it would decimate him. Meanwhile, his arms were starting to get shaky, both from holding up his souped-up piece and, likely, from the adrenaline rush starting to leave his system.

“I don’t know, he doesn’t look smart enough to lie,” mister short stack to the left piped up. 

“Hey, I was smart enough to figure out your puzzle,” Richie quipped back.

“Dumbass, you  _ just _ said it doesn’t take a genius to solve it,” the annoyed-looking man sighed. “So which is it?”

“Children,” Bev said with a warning tone in her voice. “Pipe down. And actually, while we’re at it, weapons down.” 

Richie’s gaze went back and forth between the man and the woman flanking Bev, but they all lowered their weapons, slowly.

“Okay, Richie. Let’s talk. You may be a dumbass, and you may not know anything, but you bested us so we may need your help. If nothing else, you can help us make the puzzle stronger.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Besides being able to walk out of here alive?” the other woman huffed out a laugh. “Well we have a fantastic fucking armory with weapons and supplies built by a certified genius. A safe place to sleep, which I know can be tough to find out there. A good and moral mission if you’re looking for some fucking meaning in life which can, again, be hard to find in the Commonwealth. And Doctor K over there can patch you up, which it looks like you might need badly. You’re looking radiated as hell. No offense.”

“None taken,” Richie muttered. His gaze shifted to the man. “You’re a doctor?”

Doctor K, apparently, sniffed. “Yeah, fuckface. I’m a doctor.”

“Great bedside manner, huh. Gonna kiss my boo-boos and give me a lollipop to lick or what?”

“Fuck off,” he said, his weapon starting to rise again. Bev put an arm out to keep the rifle from raising too high and shot him an admonishing look.

“God, I can already tell babysitting you two is going to be a lot of fun.”

  
  


–––

“Training and vetting takes a year,” the aforementioned mechanical genius, Mike, explained to Richie on morning number two in Railroad HQ. He had been passed off to the other man fairly early in the morning, as the rest of the field crew were busy being briefed on what their upcoming rescue operation was, so Richie needed to be passed on somebody for babysitting duty. Mike seemed to draw the short stick on that assignment, the poor bastard.

“Fuck, a whole ass year? Isn’t that...a long time?” Richie asked. Mike was letting him take a look at his wares--he couldn’t have any of them, not yet, but he was allowed to drool over the Railway rifle and custom armor--and it was a good strategy. Richie would honestly give his left nut and a half to have access to some of this shit.

“We’ve been burned before,” Mike sighed. “It takes a while to catch newbies up to speed on our methods. Besides, The Institute has a vested interest in taking us down, so they’ve spent a  _ lot _ of resources trying to infiltrate us and take us down.”

“Whoa, wait. The Institute is real?”

Mike looked at Richie with such deep pity that it, honestly, kind of stung a little. “Ah, a skeptic. This will be interesting.” He sighed, took the rifle out of Richie’s hands, and placed it back on one of his meticulously-organized shelves. “Yeah. The Institute is real. I spent most of my life being told I’m just a paranoid headcase but trust me; I know what I’ve seen. I’ve been head-to-head with Coursers. I know what kind of resources and reach The Institute has, and I know they need to be stopped.”

“Cool,” Richie said after a few too-long moments of silence. “Is it cool if I ask what a Courser is?”

Mike sighed deeply, and a rumble of a laugh came from around the corner. Another dude--Bill, maybe?--came and slung his arm around Mike’s back so he could pat it in a sweet, brotherly gesture. 

“Sorry Mikey, I know you always get stuck with historian duty.”

“It’s fine,” Mike said, and he smiled at Bill. This was the first time Richie saw the other man smile; it was, actually, really fucking nice; he had noticeably less tension in his body, looked relaxed, almost, and for the first time, Richie could see the easy kind of personality he might have if they weren’t living in a fucking post-apocalyptic wasteland. He bumped his shoulder into Bill’s amiably, then returned his attention to Richie.

“Sorry, Richie. I forget that not everybody had to grow up like I did. You know, it might be helpful if you gave me some background on, well,  _ your _ background.”

Richie shrugged one shoulder and leaned into one of the dirty, metal filing cabinets that lined the room. “Eh, I’m from a little bit of everywhere. Kind of new to this part of the Commonwealth. I was born further north, near Portland. Fucked around there for a long time. Eventually my parents couldn’t handle scavenging enough for a kid so I took off on my own. Just kind of wandered, doing whatever to stay alive. I spent a few months in Far Harbor last year. It’s fine if you don’t mind killer fog that slowly drives you insane.”

Bill raised his eyebrows at Richie. “Wait, you were in Far Harbor but you didn’t know what Synths were?”

Richie shrugged and fiddled around with the nearest doohickey. Hopefully it wasn’t going to kill him if he pressed the wrong button? “Eh, I heard some of the townsfolk spouting some weird shit about a haven for fake humans, but, again, crazy-making fog. Figured they were just as crazy as the cultists up there that worship the A-bomb.”

Mike gave him a hard look, and Richie struggled to maintain eye contact. Looking at him was so intense, fuck. Eventually, though, he seemed to accept Richie’s explanation. 

“Fair enough. Well, Richie, I’m sorry to tell you, but The Institute is real. They created Synths to do their dirty work, both the literal dirty work and the kind where you kill people who get in your way. The latter kind are Coursers, who are elite and deadly. They believe that ‘synthetic humanoids’ lack humanity and because of that, they can do whatever they want to them. But we...well, we know better.”

“How?”

“Because we know Synths. There’s no difference between a Synth and a human except for origin, and what does that matter? They also have emotions, complex inner lives, desires of their own. If we make something does that mean we get to order it around, treat it like a slave? 

“You know, a lot of people out there are so quick to demonize anything that isn’t technically ‘human.’ They see the Super Mutants, the Feral Ghouls, and think, well, anything out there that’s violent or a threat is non-human. That’s why they see Synths as an inherent threat. But they forget. It was  _ humans _ who created this world. It was  _ humans _ that created all these non-human entities. It’s  _ humans _ who have done the most damage to each other. It’s  _ humans _ who created these other species and then decided they exist for us. What gave us the right?”

“Well shit,” Richie said after a long, contemplative silence. “I don’t know what you were trying to do, but I think you fucking converted me.”

Bill grinned at Richie and slapped him on the shoulder. 

“Glad to have you, man.”

Mike smiled at Richie, for the first, but not the last time.

“Great. Now it’s time to get to work.”

–––

Weeks go by. Richie often shadowed Kay, who was the scary, badass woman from the first day that he respected so goddamn much he might as well be looking at her with hearts in his eyes. With Kay things were organized, yet dire; she was (surprisingly) patiently showing him the methodology with the Railroad. 

_ Look, Richie, repeat back to me each of the symbols and what they mean.  _

_ Look, Richie, tell me what a dead drop is and how to identify it.  _

_ Look, Richie, say the phrase back. And how do you respond?  _

_ Look, Richie, tell me where the closest safe house is. Who runs it? _

_ Look, Richie, what do you do if you’ve been made? Who are all of the types of people who might try to kill us? Are you willing and ready to give up your life? _

Other times, when he wasn’t proving to Kay that he wasn’t a useless hunk of large human meat, he was following Bill into the outside world, scouring the surrounding streets for any signs of an imminent threat. These were looser patrols, just waiting for something to happen. They had developed a bit of a rapport in spending these patrolling hours together, and he would–unfortunately–follow Bill into hell if he asked. And, fuck, he might have to ask one day. Richie could handle it, though; he hadn’t survived nearly thirty years on his own for nothing. He was a scrappy motherfucker who knew how to get by with half-broken equipment, clothes that provided basically  _ zero _ real protection and without a lick of safe water for weeks. Even with all of these handicaps he could blast a bastard away with pretty good accuracy and minimal ammo used, so yeah. Richie could be a good boy, a good asset to the team. Might as well use it to help people instead of just himself, huh?

Back at HQ, he was often listening to history lessons from Stan, the point man, or Mike, whoever was less done with his shit that day (usually Mike). Stan eventually introduced him to P.A.T.T.Y., their predictive AI in a really cool Protectron chassis. He was a little obsessed with her, but Richie couldn’t blame him; her precise calculations and mission design operations were fucking cool.

And then there was Doctor K, who Richie now knew better as “Eddie.” Even after several weeks together in a pretty small space, Eddie didn’t seem to have warmed up to Richie at all. He would often catch the doctor frowning at him from across the room, thick eyebrows slashing angrily across his lined forehead as he scowled in Richie’s general direction. Richie had no fucking clue what he did to deserve it, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t  _ earn _ the scorn; his response was usually to stick his tongue out at the doctor or make some obscene gesture with his hands. 

Richie figured that if he was going to be hated, he might as well earn it.

–––

“Jesus, what the fuck did you get yourself into  _ this _ time,” Eddie hissed while he prepared the various injections Richie would need to be patched up. 

“Take that up with Bev, Doc,” Richie said through a grimace. He was, admittedly, looking a little rough; his skin had several patches that were nearly lasered-off, one of which was still smoking a little. Bill had needed to help Richie hobble back into Railroad HQ which was...not ideal, but he had honestly been through worse. Training was going super well, basically. Random Raider attacks were the  _ best. _ “She’s the one who assigns me the cases. If it were up to me I’d do nothing but lay around here staring into your pretty eyes.”

Those same pretty eyes rolled pretty violently at Richie, who grinned back. “Fucking idiot. If you aren’t careful I’m going to  _ have _ to give you that full facial reconstruction, even if you don’t want it.”

“Be honest, Eds, you would miss this face too much,” Richie said. He pursed his lips and did a few obnoxious kissing noises, which quickly turned into a yelp when Eddie stabbed the first needle into him a little harder than he probably fucking needed to. “ _ Ow, _ Jesus,  _ really? _ Whatever happened to ‘first do no harm.’”

“That’s pre-War medicine, idiot,” Eddie said with a smirk. “You really think I had to take a fucking Hippocratic Oath to do  _ this?” _

“...fair,” Richie mumbled. As much as his bedside manner sucked, he couldn’t deny how much lighter and less radiated he felt whenever he saw Doctor K. “You want to warn a guy next time?”

“No,” Eddie said as he stabbed the next needle into Richie’s leg. They both watched with some mild entertainment as the wounds in his body started to close up. “Man, I’ll never get over how cool that looks.”

“Agreed,” Richie said with a semi-hysterical laugh. He had survived almost forty fucking years without ever seeing a doctor, just surviving on whatever blood packs and chems he could find in the wild. Even without the moral imperative he now felt to help the Synths, just having access to a fucking  _ doctor _ that he didn’t have to fork over hard-earned bottlecaps to was enough of a reason to stick around. “Who needs medical school anyway?”

“Not me,” Eddie groused, back to his grumpy self, as he turned around and started putting his supplies away. “Anyway, Richie, you had better fucking rest up tonight. I know you’re the newest, shiniest, most dumbass hotshot Bev’s got, but if you’re as valuable as she says you are you gotta take it a little easy sometimes. We need you for the long haul.”

“Aww, Eds, I didn’t know you cared,” Richie said in his worst imitation of a Texas Commonwealth accent. 

“I don’t,” Eddie smirked. “Now get the fuck off my table and into an open mattress. I have other, better people to patch up.”

“If you wanted me in your mattress, all you had to do was ask.” 

Richie hopped off the table, limbs now fully healed and functioning. Before Eddie could say anything more than “I said  _ a _ mattress not  _ my _ mattress,” Richie quickly cupped the doctor’s face in his hands and laid a big, wet kiss on his cheek with a loud, resounding  _ mwah! _

“Jesus, fuckface!” Eddie shouted after Richie. In possibly the worst tactical move of all time, Richie tried to hide behind Stan, who could not be bothered to give a shit about any of this. “Do you know how many Commonwealth germs you could have just laid on me?! If I catch any rads from your filthy trash mouth I’ll kill you myself!” 

–––

“You’re ready for the big time,” Bev said one day,  _ finally. _ Richie had been fucking around and sharing stories with Ben, a sweet and soft agent who was a  _ crazy _ talented point shooter in the field. Seriously, their accuracy in the field was ridiculously fucking attractive, which was a thought Richie  _ of course _ couldn’t just keep to himself. Thankfully, Ben was a little sweetie; they had just crinkled up their eyes in a smile and explained that, sorry, they were kind of super into Bev. And yeah, Richie couldn’t blame them; he was very, very gay but that didn’t mean he didn’t have  _ eyes _ and  _ taste. _

“Ah, am I to be trusted on a real ass rescue mission now?” Richie asked Bev, eyes big and surprisingly excited. These missions were obviously riskier, more direct and to the point of the whole operation, and Richie knew this was a big test of his skills and his dedication to the fucking mission. 

“Yep. Report to Doctor K for more information.” Bev clapped him on the shoulder, leaned in and added, “And don’t fuck it up.” 

“Doctor K?” Richie mumbled as she left. When he looked back at Ben, they were grinning at Richie and giving him two enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“This is a big deal! Your first rescue mission. I’m proud of you.”

“Ben, let’s get married,” Richie sighed, clasping their hands and pressing a little kiss to Ben’s nose. Ben just laughed and pushed him in the doctor’s direction. 

Eddie looked, as always, less than impressed to see Richie when he stumbled over to the medical area of the headquarters. The doctor just fixed him with his perpetual, dark-eyed stare, mouth turning down into an even deeper scowl than his usual. 

“Hmm. So they’re sending you out on one of these, now.” Eddie sighed, then turned around to grab something from his desk. Richie shifted his weight between his feet uncomfortably; he knew Eddie didn’t like him, but it still stung to be so underestimated by the second-in-command. He turned around and handed Richie some papers and a small package.

“Mission is simple. You need to go to the dead drop indicated here. There, our field agent Don will give you the next steps. Your mission is to bring ADR-14-N to the safe house Don will give you. And, of course, you’ll be alone.”

“Cool,” Richie said, pocketing the items. “What’s in the package, Doc?”

“Contingency plan. That’s a Stealth Boy, will make you nearly impossible to see, if anything bad happens. But we’re running out, so please only use it in an extreme emergency, and make sure ADR-14-N gets priority on its usage.”

“Roger,” Richie said, flashing Eddie a smile. “You gonna miss me, Doc?”

“Get the fuck out of here, Rich.” 

Richie laughed and turned to go, but, to his surprise, a hand clamped around his wrist and pulled him back. Eddie’s hand. Richie looked up at the other man and tried to look less shocked than he felt.

“One last thing, Richie. Just...get home safe.”

He released Richie’s hand and turned away, as though nothing had ever happened. Richie, unfortunately, can’t forget; he feels that phantom heat on his wrist like a brand during his entire trek to the dead drop. The memory of that grip stayed with him until nighttime, until he was waiting in the secure meeting space. It’s an abandoned church (but what isn’t abandoned these days?) covered in decades of grime, dirt and irradiated air. Richie tried very, very hard to stay awake, alert and ready for anything, but after a while he couldn’t help it; he zoned out often, staring at the empty space where a door used to be, and thought about..well, lots of things he probably shouldn’t have been thinking about.

Finally, a man appeared, fairly soon after the glowing sunset faded to darkness. The neighborhood they were in had nearly no electricity, making it an ideal spot for a meeting (as well as an ideal spot to get jumped by roving bands of Raiders). Despite the darkness, Richie was able to make out dark hair, tired eyes.

“Do you have a geiger counter?”

“Mine is in the shop,” Richie responded easily. The other man nodded, satisfied with the usage of Richie’s countersign. He handed Richie another piece of paper, which Richie knew would contain an encrypted message with another location.

“Package is incoming. You’ll be taking him to Ticon. Do you know where it is?”

“Yep,” Richie nodded. He, like all recruits in his level, knew how to get to the Ticonderoga safehouse from almost anywhere. “I’ll get the package secured there.”

“Great.” The other man, Don, sighed heavily. “Do me a favor, recruit?”

“Yeah man, what’s up?”

“This one is special to me. Look, every mission is important, but…”

“I get it,” Richie smiled. “It must have killed you to leave him behind.”

“Yeah. Yeah it...it did.” Don’s voice was thick and heavy with barely-concealed emotion; Richie ignored that, hoping to help him keep his dignity.

“Don’t worry, chief. I’ll keep him safe.”

Don gave Richie a watery smile, and then he was gone.

Getting to the new location was easy enough; after about an hour of hiking beyond Old Boston’s limits, he hit the dilapidated neighborhood indicated on the slip of paper Don had given him. A few minutes more of navigation to the correct house, and there he was. ADR-14-N, flanked by another field agent in a semi-hidden old factory.

“I’ll take it from here,” Richie nodded to the other agent after exchanging the countersign. 

ADR-14-N was a little mouthier, with a more easy-going attitude than most of the other synths Richie had interacted with in his short time with the Railroad. As he navigated the two of them through the darker back roads and quieter areas of the Commonwealth, Adrian narrated to Richie the funnier stories from his life. Richie was honestly a little floored that there were  _ any _ funny stories to tell, but this also warmed his heart; if somebody like ADR-14-N could find small moments of happiness in a life of dehumanization and slave labor then, well. What was Richie’s excuse? Richie’s favorites to hear all included Don, then D-000-N, and  _ fuck _ but Richie was excited to get them reunited. 

Of course, the smoothness of the mission couldn’t last forever. They were within a few blocks of Ticonderoga when the shit finally hit the fan. Five Raiders, all drunk off their asses, discovered them and opened fire immediately. Richie’s training took over; he secured cover for Adrian and then took out the attacking party fairly quickly. They were lucky; if the Raiders hadn’t been drunk, if there hadn’t been cover for Adrian, if Richie had been paying just slightly less attention…

As it was, Richie was able to get the package secured in the safe house within twenty minutes of the attack. ADR-14-N grasped him in a tight hug, which Richie grunted into, and thanked him for helping get him to freedom. Richie smiled back wetly, then waved goodbye.

After he got outside Richie gasped and pulled up his shirt to check on the gunshot wound in his left hip. Yep, it was still bleeding pretty freely. He took a few moments to bandage himself as quickly and as securely as he could, bit down against the pain and booked it back to HQ. As Richie stumbled back, vision blurring at the edges and nausea threatening to upend the little food he’d had, there was one thought in his mind: Eddie wouldn’t be happy with him, but he  _ could  _ fix him.

–––

Three days after the ADR-14-N mission found Richie staring into the put-upon face of Stan, who had been asked by Eddie to deliver the news to Richie that he needed a follow-up appointment.

“The fuck?” Richie said out loud, but Stan’s only response was a shrug. “Does that happen, uh, ever?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Stan said with a shrug. “I just tell the people what I’m told to tell them.”

“You job sucks giant mole balls, dude.”

“Yep,” Stan said with an exaggerated pop at the end.

When Richie found Eddie, he was fiddling around with his lab equipment, looking five percent more manic than Richie had ever seen him. His eyebrows were doing some truly  _ crazy _ can-can dances on his forehead. As entertaining as that was to watch, what was almost  _ more  _ entertaining was the look Eddie had when he finally looked up and saw Richie.

“Come here, Tozier,” he said, grabbing Richie’s wrist (again?) and dragging him behind a door that Richie had never even fucking noticed before.

“Weird place for a follow-up appointment, dude,” Richie chuckled, eyes darting a little nervously around the room he was sure he was about to die in.  _ One too many bad jokes _ , his memorial stone would read. 

“You like men, right? Sexually?” Eddie’s voice was a harsh whisper in this dark room, only illuminated by the cracks in the crumbling walls. Given the lighting situation, Richie was surprised that he could still make out the crazed energy in Eddie’s eyes.

“Uh, yeah, dude. I do. Exclusively. Why, does this change your treatment plan for something or…”

Eddie’s hand, which was still gripping Richie’s wrist, pulled Richie in tighter, lower, making him more...accessible. 

“Tell me now if you don’t want this,” Eddie whispered, mouth really, really fucking close to Richie’s own. Richie wet his lips nervously and squinted.

“Don’t want  _ what?” _ he asked, finally. Eddie let out a soft, quiet  _ fuck _ before his mouth was on Richie’s.

And  _ shit _ but it was fucking  _ hot. _ The doctor wasted no time in taking exactly what he wanted from Richie, which seemed to be a desire to taste everything he’d eaten in the last week. Richie had a quick, hysterical thought of  _ whoa, Eds, didn’t know you were a dentist too, _ but he became too distracted by the feeling of Eddie’s hands grasping into his dirty hair and  _ pulling. _

“Eddie,” Richie stuttered out a groan, his hands grasping uselessly at Eddie’s hips. God, was he actually toned under that doctor’s jacket? Richie suddenly couldn’t wait to find out just what Eddie had been hiding this whole time. “Eddie, fuck, I thought you  _ hated _ me.”

Eddie pulled back then, but left his hands in Richie’s hair. He grasped and pulled to move Richie’s throat to exactly where he wanted it, because apparently Eddie wanted to explore  _ this _ area with his teeth and tongue, too. And who was Richie to deny him? He could go Magellan on his body any fucking day of the week.

“You’re a dumbass sometimes, Richard,” Eddie whispered between sharp bites to Richie’s throat. 

“Yeah,” Richie agreed, hips stuttering against Eddie’s.  _ Fuck _ , they were both  _ hard _ after just  _ this? _

“I like you anyway.” Eddie whispered this directly into Richie’s ear and then, because he was trying to  _ kill _ Richie, he took Richie’s earlobe between his teeth and bit down softly.

“Cool,” Richie whimpered, like a goddamn sex god  _ stud. _

“Well?” 

Eddie’s face was now back in front of Richie’s. His vision was swimming, fuzzy around the edges, and he had to blink a few times to get Eddie’s face to actually focus in his eyesight. He wondered half-hysterically if Eddie had a shot he could administer for  _ that,  _ for being a blind, horny idiot.

“Huh?”

“Well, Richie, do you like me, too?”

“Oh, fuck,  _ yes. _ So, so much,” Richie babbled. Eddie rolled his eyes, but then he fixed Richie with the widest grin he’d ever seen on the other man’s face.

“Cool,” Eddie agreed, and then he was on Richie again, greedy mouth and exploring hands.

–––

Despite Richie’s success with the ADR-14-N (who, he heard, was now going by Adrian) case, Richie was bumped back down to a bunch of milk and cookie run cases for a while. He was confused by this, and maybe a little bit hurt, but he tried to keep his pouting to a minimum. 

“If this is the minimum, I don’t want to know the maximum,” Kay groused. Richie stuck his tongue out at her, and then went back to his real duty of watching her back and she took on the more dangerous role in this mission. The two of them were on a scavenging run for more tech, with Richie acting as the backup. There hadn’t been a lot of hostile activity in this area, so this was considered a much safer operation than most. The most exciting moment had been when Richie had tripped over some debris on the ground and had to turn it into a “ta-da” moment to make Kay smile.

“I just thought I did a good job,” Richie said for the nineteen-millionth time. Kay sighed. 

“You  _ did.” _

“Then why this?”

“I don’t know, but don’t forget: you're not the only one suffering. If you’re on bitch missions,  _ I’m _ on bitch missions.”

“Fantastic,” Richie sighed. He did a quick visual sweep (nothing,  _ again _ ) and then returned his gaze to the shelves in the room they were in. Out of boredom, he opened up a random lunchbox, and jumped when a toy burst out of it, showering his uniform with confetti.

He had never heard Kay laugh so hard, which was super fair.

–––

“You seem distracted,” Eddie murmured against Richie’s throat. Eddie shared a room with the other top dogs in the organization, but as they were all working and Eddie had nobody to patch up, he had grabbed Richie and dragged him to his mattress. Not that Richie was complaining, like,  _ at all.  _ Sure, he was a little worried about Bev walking in on them, but he could be persuaded to not give a fuck.

“Mmm,” Richie sighed in answer, tightening his grip on Eddie’s hair. “Kinda. I don’t know. I just…”

Eddie paused, so Richie loosened up his grip. The doctor pulled back to look into Richie’s eyes. He was surprised to find what looked like actual concern in Eddie’s face; Richie knew that, for some reason, Eddie was really into his weird body, but he was pretty sure that was the extent of it. More like a scientific, morbid curiosity, maybe, but it was really working out in his favor so he couldn’t complain. The look in Eddie’s eyes, though…

“I just don’t understand why I’m doing bitch runs,” Richie mumbled. “I thought I proved I could be trusted. I thought I did a good job.”

Eddie sighed and sat up, completely pulling away from Richie.  _ Fuck, I did it, _ Richie thought. _ I annoyed him with my emotions. He’ll never touch you again. _

“Rich, I’m sorry. That may be my fault.”

“...the fuck?” Richie laughed, confused. “How?”

“I may have told Bev to switch you to safer routes. For now.”

“The  _ fuck?” _ Richie would like to believe that he didn’t sound like a dying owl, but, well. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t like seeing you hurt, okay, numbnuts?! It freaks me out.” Eddie’s scream was  _ way _ too loud, which meant people  _ would _ come, but Richie somehow couldn’t find it in his heart in that moment to care.

“Eddie that’s your fucking  _ job. _ You can’t keep me from doing  _ my _ job because you don’t like  _ yours.” _

“That’s not it, dumbass,” Eddie mumbled. He was refusing to make eye contact with Richie, who felt this absence almost physically. They were back to the beginning, back to hating each other, maybe, and Richie had to swallow around a sense of dread and emptiness in his stomach. “I don’t mind doing my job in general, I just hate having to do it to  _ you.” _

“Why, because you can’t stand to be around me? Can’t stand to touch my blood? Is it too  _ dirty _ for you?”

“God you are just  _ so fucking stupid, Richard,” _ Eddie hissed. “You think that’s it? You think it upsets me because I don’t like you  _ enough?” _

“Well I don’t know what  _ else _ it could be—”

Light flooded the room, suddenly, nearly blinding the both of them. Bev stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, looking frighteningly like a disappointed school teacher from the before time.

“If you two are done, we have a fucking moral imperative to uphold.”

–––

Months passed. Richie’s one year anniversary was still far enough away that it didn’t feel real, but enough things had changed that it was impossible to ignore the passage of time. He was back on bigger missions, after Eddie had apologized to Bev for acting irrationally. Now Richie had almost a dozen synth rescues under his belt, and many more dozens of kills. 

Things had gone back to normal with Eddie, which meant that he mostly saw him for wound repair and radiation removal. He still made a scrunched-up, pained face every time he had to interact with Richie in this capacity, but it was fine. It wasn’t good but it was  _ fine. _ Yeah, Richie missed him, and not even in the ways he thought he would. Yeah, the sexual release had been really fucking nice whiile he had it, but he also just missed being around Eddie. Listening to his stories. The way his eyebrows looked when they smoothed out a little with his smile. The way he was so picky when choosing what to eat for dinner. His analytical mind. How much he fucking cared about everything.

_ Fuck _ .

Of  _ course _ Richie would fall for a dude who was just in it to get a nut. 

But he tried. He tried to channel this frustration and—ugh— _ longing _ into his work, focusing on just being the goddamn best Synth rescuer he can be. Along with the other field agents, he rescued half a dozen more Synths.

Nobody touched him as much as B-377-Y, though. She was the youngest-looking Synth he had ever seen, as though the Institute was just starting to look at making youth models when they came up with her as a prototype. It was no wonder their allies on the inside chose her to get out so quickly; what kind of like were they giving to a Synth  _ kid? _ He had been assured by the internal communication that there was zero violence done to her, but still. He worried that it would have only been a matter of time.

When he finally got her dropped off at the safe house, she had grasped onto his legs so tightly that he was worried it would cut off circulation. 

“Easy there,” he laughed, patting her on the head.

“Thank you for saving me,” she sniffled into his leg. He smiled at her again, scooped her up in a big hug, and left her in the care of the safehouse keeper. 

When he walked outside, his head was full of thoughts for B-377-Y’s future. They would probably give her the full memory wipe, and maybe facial reconstruction surgery, too. Some nice people would adopt her, maybe. There was no such thing as a normal childhood, not anymore, but Richie wanted to hope. To dream. Maybe, something good and normal could be in B-377-Y’s future.

He was still daydreaming as he got closer to HQ. This might explain why he didn’t notice the ambush until it was too late.

–––

When Richie woke up again he was strapped to a medical table, unable to move.

“The fuck,” he mumbled. Eddie’s face swirled above him, eyebrows even more severe than normal.

“You’re awake,” Eddie rasped. His hands went to work immediately, checking every part of Richie. This was the most they had touched in  _ months _ and Richie couldn’t even enjoy it.

“The fuck happened?”

“You were blasted almost to bits, Rich,” Eddie groused. He ran several instruments by Richie taking who-knows-what measurements, while Rich just blinked up at Eddie’s serious face. “Bill found you on patrol and dragged you back here. I had to put you in a coma to give you time to recover.”

“How long have I been out?”

“A week.”

“A  _ week?  _ Is B-377-Y okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie mumbled, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “Betty is doing great. Much better than you.”

“Good,” Richie sighed. He finally let himself relax and stay silent, much to Eddie’s relief, he was sure. 

After a few minutes Eddie appeared to be assured that Richie wasn’t going to die at any moment. He fixed Richie with a stare, then, a look in his eyes that Richie didn’t want to interpret.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you had died, Rich.”

Richie blinked up at Eddie. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, so everything was fuzzy, but even despite his poor eyesight he could read the grief in Eddie’s face. He could barely move, but he moved enough to grip Eddie’s wrist in his hand.

“I won’t die, Eddie. Not while I have Doctor K to take care of me.”

Eddie let out a small huff of a laugh and patted Richie’s arm with his other hand.

“That’s right, Rich. That’s right.”

–––

Their truce lasted about a month which, in retrospect, was longer than Richie thought it  _ could _ last. It wasn’t until he heard about a new field mission that was coming down the pipeline and he sought after Eddie to get cleared for the field again that it all came to a head.

“No  _ fucking _ way, Richie,” Eddie all but growled, brandishing one of his needles at Richie in a way that he probably thought was more threatening than it was in practice. “No  _ fucking _ way am I letting you back out in the field after last month.”

“I’m super healed, Eds! Thanks to you!” Richie flailed his arms at this, probably looking like an overgrown puppet, but he was desperate. “You can feel me all over if you want I’m  _ healed.” _

Eddie scoffed and opened his mouth, but then he snapped it shut. Richie looked around; oh, everyone was watching them. Obviously. Their gazes snapped back to each other, and by mutual agreement they hustled away into Eddie’s quarters and shut the door.

“Richie, you almost died,” Eddie hissed.

“Yeah, doing my fucking  _ job. _ This is what I  _ do, _ Eds. I go out there, I put my life on the line, I save some people who need help. It’s what we  _ all _ do.”

“Not  _ all _ of us,” Eddie whispered. “Some of us work from here. We’re important, too. You could do anything else, you could—”

“ _ Christ, _ Eddie, can you not fucking do this right now? I mean  _ Jesus _ , it took me forty fucking years to find something worth dying for. I’m not giving it up now.”

Eddie barked out a hysterical-sounding laugh. “Worth dying for, huh? How about something worth living for, Richie? Am I...is this not enough?”

“Eddie...Eds,” Richie choked out. His hand reached out, almost of its own accord, and wrapped around Eddie’s beautiful fucking jawline. He stroked a thumb along Eddie’s cheekbone, marveling that he got to touch him at all, much less like  _ this _ , while Eddie’s gaze flew back and forth between Richie’s eyes. “It’s...yes. All of it is enough. You. You are—“

Eddie caught his mouth in a searing kiss before he could embarrass himself more. He pulled back, after a moment, black eyes shining in determination.

“Show me then, fuckface.”

They had never actually been naked together, before. There was never time, just stolen moments between missions and work. But now, Richie stared at Eddie’s beautiful face, and he wanted to hold him, all of him. He wanted nothing to separate their bodies.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Richie ran his hands underneath the lapels of Eddie’s white doctor coat to push them gently off his shoulders until it fell to the ground. He then set to work on Eddie’s buttons, while Eddie grabbed impatiently at Richie’s shirt and rucked it up. He ran his hot, compact hands—the hands of a healer, a miracle worker—across the wide expanse of Richie’s stomach and chest, digging his fingers into the hair and skin until Richie hissed. It was  _ good. _ He had missed how crazy Eddie seemed to get like this, how he touched and kissed like he would only be happy when they were one being.

“Rich,” he sighed, dragging their still-clothed hips together. “Rich, I have to tell you something.”

“I already know you want to play doctor, Doc,” Richie giggled into Eddie’s hair. The last button of Eddie’s shirt was undone,  _ finally, _ so he could slide that off, too. Nothing to keep their chests apart, nothing.

“No, shit. No, it’s. Richie. Rich, baby, I love you,” Eddie said. He kept his gaze down for a few moments, but when he looked up at Richie his eyes were so, so bright and beautiful. 

So what could he do? Nothing, except grab Eddie in his arms and pick him up. Eddie gasped, and Richie swallowed that noise by pressing their mouths together as those strong legs wrapped around his hips. Richie used his new, strong and  _ healed, yes, thank you,  _ body to carry Eddie over to his mattress and lay him down, gently.

“I love you, too, Eds,” he said as he nuzzled into Eddie’s hair. “So, so much.”

“God,” Eddie hiccuped. “What have we been doing?”

“Saving people, mostly,” Richie laughed. “I have some different ideas for what we could do right  _ now _ , though.”

Richie wanted to take his time and enjoy this, he really did. But after he got Eddie’s pants off and saw his gorgeous legs, bare to his eyes for the first time, he couldn’t wait. He swallowed Eddie quickly, nearly to the root, and the wet gasp Eddie made above him was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. Richie wrapped his hands around Eddie’s thighs, opening them wider, massaging them, gripping them tight while Eddie squirmed and made encouraging noises. God, he was sure he would never get enough of this. Eddie could be so brusque, so efficient, such little patience, but still he let Richie do this, let him take his time taking Eddie apart with just his mouth and tongue.

“You feel amazing,” Eddie whispered, hands petting through Richie’s hair. “You’re perfect, Rich. You’re so perfect.”

Richie moaned around Eddie’s cock, some drool and pre-cum slipping out of his mouth and down his chin. He loved it messy, loved to get Eddie wet, so different from his tireless efforts to be pristine and clean in this kind of environment. Surprisingly, Eddie seemed to like it, too. He ran a finger through the drool on Richie’s face, circled it around and back up to Richie’s mouth. It was a struggle, but he opened up just a little bit wider so he could take Eddie’s wet fingers alongside his cock. Eddie slipped his fingers in and out a few times, then took them out with a wet  _ pop _ . He dragged his messy fingers along Richie’s cheek.

“Love this. Love you,” he whispered. Richie’s hips dragged along the ground, giving him just the barest hint of pressure against his painfully hard erection.  _ Fuck _ but he loved doing this for Eddie. 

When Eddie’s orgasm hit it was stronger than usual, leaving Eddie hunched forward, gripping Richie’s hair in his hands, grunting and thrusting shallowly a few times into Richie’s mouth. He eventually released all the tension and flopped back onto the mattress, shuddering with delicious after-shocks. Richie crawled up the mattress, finally shedding his own pants as he went.

“Eddie,” he whispered. “I loved that. Wanna do that every goddamn day, wanna make you feel good.” Richie dragged his erection along Eddie’s hip, thrusting just enough to get some friction. He could do this, he could get himself off just being  _ near _ Eddie, if Eddie was too tired. Luckily for him, Eddie didn’t seem to want that to happen; he opened one eye blearily, gave Richie a lazy grin, and then reached down to take Richie’s cock into both of his hands.

“You were so good to me, Rich,” he panted, eyes staring at Richie’s red, wet mouth. “Can I be good to you now?”

“Yeah,” Richie stuttered out a breath. “Anything you want.”

It took an embarrassingly short amount of time of Eddie touching him before he shot his load, thick spurts coating Eddie’s hands. True to form, Eddie had everything they needed to clean up close at hand, so it wasn’t long before they were clean (or, as close to clean as you could get), holding each other, hands stroking all the skin they had never been able to see before.

“Eds,” Richie mumbled after a few minutes. “Eds, you wore me the fuck out. I’m gonna pass out with my balls out and anyone could walk in. I gotta put some pants on.”

“In a minute,” Eddie said, grip tightening on Richie. 

“What if people see us?”

“I’m sure they know,” Eddie sniffed. “I called dibs on you that first night.”

Richie blinked a few times. “The fuck? What?  _ What? _ I thought you  _ hated _ me?”

“Yeah, and despite how fucking dumb you are, I love the shit out of you, dude,” Eddie sighed. He rubbed his face in between Richie’s pecs, sighing. “It’s embarrassing how much I love you, honestly.”

“Same,” Richie laughed. “What a pair, huh?”

“What a pair,” Eddie agreed.

–––

Eventually, Richie was a full-time agent of the Railroad. One of the best, if Bev was to be believed. Life was hard, it was so fucking hard, but the pain, the danger, the hardship was worth it.

One day, a survivor appeared. From the before times, inexplicably. She was tall, dark-skinned, and already a legend.

Richie grasped Eddie’s hand that night, as they fell asleep on what was now their mattress.

“I think this is our chance. We can finally get back at Bob Grey for everything he and the Institute have done to this world.”

Eddie squeezed Richie’s hand, brushed his lips against Richie’s knuckles, and smiled at him.

“Definitely. But let’s start working on that in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Richie sniffed, smiling at Eddie. They curled in toward each other, hands clasped, hope aligned.

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't hate this, you can also find my Reddie social media AU on Twitter [@omgroommatesau](https://twitter.com/omgroommatesau)


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